


Somehow It Works

by helwolves



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Costumes, Fingering, M/M, Oral Sex, Sneaking Around, Subby Kuroo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 02:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17592803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helwolves/pseuds/helwolves
Summary: Keiji looks Kuroo up and down, taking in the ridiculous red wizard robe, the knee-high boots, the sharp black lines defining his sharper eyes, the carved foam horns nestled in his wild hair. It really should not beworkingfor him—and yet.Shenanigans behind the scenes ofFinal Haikyuu Quest, concerning one cameraman and one best supporting demon.





	Somehow It Works

Because the afternoon is waning and he is impatient, Keiji decides to play dirty. “Kozume looks very cute in that wizard costume,” he says, watching Kuroo who’s watching the white-cloaked form retreating across the grass.

Keiji is surprised Kozume had willingly gone back to the commotion on the other side of the park where the student film project is happening. But then, he’s unlikely to have missed the way Kuroo has been fidgeting and flickering those dark glances at Keiji when he thinks neither of them is looking.

Even now, rather than voice his agreement or put on a show of some jealous bravado, Kuroo is still embarrassingly obvious in his lack of reaction, oddly quiet and slouched against one of the borrowed van’s open back doors.

It would probably be prudent for Keiji to suggest Kuroo not test the rusting hinges like that, but... Well. Sometimes it’s better to stay quiet and just see what happens, with Kuroo. And he would hesitate to admit it, but the outfit makes it especially tempting. Kozume isn’t the only one who’s been decked out in interesting attire today—Kuroo’s is something besides _cute_.

“I can’t believe Bokuto’s missing the opportunity to put on a stupid costume and run around the park yelling,” says Kuroo after a moment.

“He was crushed, but he’ll live.” Keiji keeps his small grin aimed at the treeline. “If he survives the supplementary math lesson.”

Kuroo makes a noncommittal noise, then drops his empty coffee can on the ground.

_Finally_.

“So,” Kuroo says with a leer that makes Keiji’s heart do something very irritating, and a little mortifying. “You know who else is cute?”

Keiji lets himself be backed against the other door. “You had at least ten minutes,” he says, tilting his head back to meet Kuroo’s suddenly intense gaze. “That was the line you decided to go with?”

Kuroo gasps theatrically, fitting his painted-on demonic aura. “Akaashi Keiji, I am insulted that you’d think I’d resort to using _a line_ on someone so clever and discerning as you.”

“You also just littered.”

He kind of wants to let Kuroo fret a little. It’s so endearingly easy to make the guy trip over his words when he’s trying to be smooth. But their lunch break will only last so long, and Ennoshita is rumored to be strict when it comes to his film projects.

Keiji looks Kuroo up and down, taking in the ridiculous red wizard robe, the knee-high boots, the sharp black lines defining his sharper eyes, the carved foam horns nestled in his wild hair. It really should not be _working_ for him—and yet.

It’s Kuroo. A lot of things that should not work seem to do so, for him.

Kuroo grins wider, and Keiji decides he needs to improve on schooling his own expressions; it won’t do to give away his intentions like he’s clearly just done, on the court or elsewhere. Kuroo’s hands have found their way to Keiji’s hips, just under his hoodie, thumbs pressing into muscle just hard enough to command Keiji’s attention.

“You really do look cute when you’re blushing,” Kuroo purrs in his ear, trailing off into a laugh.

“Fuck off,” says Keiji—who is _not_ blushing—even as he digs his fingers into the unfastened lapels of Kuroo’s stupid, obnoxious, alluringly fitted robe.

Kuroo falls forward easily when pulled, his full weight pressing Keiji’s back against the door. Though the whole vehicle wobbles under the impact, Keiji barely registers it this time. Everything’s just Kuroo, looming, and their mingling exhalation in the chilly late-afternoon air.

“You know,” Kuroo says, his hooded eyes fixed as low as his voice. “You’re sending me some very mixed messages here.”

“Ah,” Keiji says, “I can be clearer,” and drags him the rest of the way down.

Angling their mouths together, Keiji pushes closer as much as he pulls, and Kuroo opens for him, lapping at his tongue and sucking, softly, an impatient question in it somewhere. Before long Kuroo’s hands slip lower, broad palms kneading Keiji’s ass through his jeans, and Keiji leans into it when Kuroo’s thigh presses between his own.

“Mmm,” Kuroo hums, pulling away just enough to mouth at Keiji’s jawline. “Yeah, definitely. That’s definitely clearer.” Keiji can’t hold in a gasp when Kuroo’s wet tongue drags up the side of his throat, where his pulse pounds, teeth grazing in its wake.

Unusually sharp teeth—Kuroo’s costume includes a pair of stick-on demon fangs that are more realistic than Keiji expected.

And then Kuroo _bites_.

Keiji hisses and jerks his head back, but his hips jerk forward—it _hurts_ , but in a very nice way, the shockwaves of it rippling under Keiji’s skin. Kuroo hums again, lazily licking and then nuzzling the same spot, and Keiji would push him away for that self-satisfied tone except then he would be _away_ and that would just not work for him right now.

“Keiji...” Kuroo nearly whines against his neck. “Keiji, I wanna suck you.”

Tightening the grip he has in Kuroo’s hair, Keiji does drag him away from where those damn fangs have been causing such a distraction. “Like, my blood?” he asks, eyes narrowed, grasping at his own hazy thoughts. He’s surprised at his own voice, how it doesn’t sound like a _no_ exactly—

Kuroo explodes in a cackle that he struggles to muffle in the rumpled shoulder of Keiji’s hoodie. “No, you dick,” he manages. “Your _dick_. I want—ow! What—”

“Those teeth are going nowhere near my dick,” Keiji hisses.

Kuroo groans like someone just informed him there will be no cake at his surprise party. And it really, truly should have the opposite effect, but the sound makes something in Keiji crack open, and what’s inside is already smoldering, and before he can think himself out of it he’s shoving Kuroo into the back of the van.

A thing about Kuroo is that he takes up space—there’s a lot of Kuroo, broad-shouldered and long-limbed, but it’s something that can be mistaken for gangly. That is, until he’s spread out over two Kozumes’ worth of a train seat, or sprawled on his ass and elbows in the back of a dusty van. Not that there’s even much space left to take up, the van a pandemonium of spare costume pieces and stray A/V equipment and the leftover spoils of an aggressive morning FamilyMart raid.

Keiji crawls in after him, yanking the doors shut behind them; Kuroo scrambles backwards, but doesn’t get far.

“Shit, are you sure you don’t want—”

Keiji doesn’t _lunge_ at him so much as he merely lets himself fall, his body slotting between Kuroo’s spread legs. Kuroo tugs him closer, sinks down lower, and the pallet of cardboard boxes buckles under their weight.

It’s more than messy kissing that Keiji has in mind, but Kuroo’s gasping sweetly, waiting, watching, and Keiji can’t help but surge up and sweep his tongue into Kuroo’s mouth again. He’s balanced well enough to get a hand between them, working blindly to tug down the black jogging pants Kuroo has on under the demon attire.

Keiji skims the backs of his fingers over Kuroo’s thickening cock through his boxers and earns a kiss-drowned moan for his very minimal effort, Kuroo’s hips rolling into the teasing touch. He breaks off with one last lick and sits back on his knees, taking in the view, struggling to focus enough to properly weigh the options for his next move.

“Pull your shirt up,” he says, finally.

Without a word or even a chuckle, Kuroo complies, baring his flat stomach and letting the outer robe fall loose around his shoulders. He slouches more with the motion and then pushes his boxers down, too, unbidden. His eyes glimmer with a level of amusement that he’s surely making a vast effort to keep the rest of his face from showing.

Keiji’s gaze trips over the sharp angles of Kuroo’s body—the way he’s jutting his hips forward, the flexing of his abdomen as his breath comes harder, rougher.

Since all this started, Keiji definitely hasn’t been keeping a mental list of every time they’ve ended up horizontal together (or occasionally, vertical, as circumstances require)—of all the ways he can make Kuroo whine and pant and beg. He’s still not used to the dizzy feeling that rushes over him, the way his hands almost shake when he slides his rough palms over Kuroo’s burning skin. It’s almost frightening, but so perfect, he’d almost call it addictive, and he just—

Kuroo laughs, something rich and fond, and Keiji’s attention snaps back where it belongs.

“If you keep looking at me like—like you want to have me for dinner,” Kuroo says, “I might go off before you even touch me.”

“Yeah?” Keiji breathes, and rakes his narrowed eyes over Kuroo some more.

“ _Oi_. That was a warning, not a suggestion.”

Keiji licks his lips, a spark of pleasure darting through him when he notices that Kuroo is watching him do it with dark, dark eyes. “So demanding,” he concludes.

“Hey, you’re the one who— _aah_ ,” Kuroo starts, but skitters to a halt as Keiji leans forward and presses the wet flat of his tongue to Kuroo’s cock, just where the slick head is pushing past the foreskin. “ _Keiji_. Keiji. Shit. Oh, _fuck_.”

He pulls back and grins up at Kuroo for a second, sharp and sure, before closing his mouth over it completely, making certain Kuroo can feel every movement of his tongue as he draws him in good and deep. Kuroo lets out a low whine and his hands hover near Keiji’s hair, fingers clutching at nothing until he ends up clawing into the cotton bunched around his thighs.

Keiji hums, causing Kuroo to whine again, and then he pulls off with a wet sound. “Good kitty,” he says lightly, nipping at the back of Kuroo’s nearest hand.

“Asshole,” Kuroo gasps.

It’s not that Keiji doesn’t like the feeling of Kuroo tugging at his hair while he’s sucking him off. Sometimes he even likes Kuroo’s big hands holding the back of his head, keeping him in place, while he’s desperately sucking air through his nose. Yes, sometimes he _really_ likes that. But, right now—Kuroo hasn’t been told it’s okay yet. And captain though he might be, _senpai_ though he might be, Kuroo’s pretty good at taking direction—he is a good boy, after all, no matter what appearances may otherwise suggest.

When Keiji finally has to pull back and catch his breath again, he’s got Kuroo’s pants pulled down past his knees and a stunning view of Kuroo’s black-painted nails digging into the pale flesh of his inner thighs. His dick is fully hard and more than a handful, dripping with spit and more precome than Keiji’s used to dealing with, but something’s gotten into him today and he’s hardly deterred by the fact that they’re nearly in public, in a grimy old van with no time to waste and Kuroo in this ridiculous costume and—

Right, maybe all that’s what’s gotten into him.

He doesn’t want to think too hard about it right now. Can’t, even, when most of his attention is fixated on Kuroo, squirming there, laid out on his back with his clothes all disheveled around him, horns crooked in the usual mayhem of his hair. Kuroo, looking as wrecked as he’s ever been, from just a few minutes of Keiji working him over with his mouth.

Keiji’s own arousal pressing against the seam of his jeans is a distant discomfort, but then a new heat pulses all through him along with the sudden notion that he’d very much like to fuck Kuroo like this.

But they’re already pushing their luck here, and more than that, even through the hazy lust, he knows he’d rather take his time with that. They can’t go that far for the first time like _this_. Still, he can’t quite stop himself from switching his languid stroking of Kuroo’s cock to his other hand and then slipping his messily slicked fingers between Kuroo’s spread thighs to trace the rim of his hole.

Kuroo’s breath stutters and Keiji pauses, leaning his burning cheek against Kuroo’s leg, letting his eyes drift closed while he gathers his thoughts.

“Tetsu...”

“ _Mm_ —hmm?” Kuroo blinks to an odd beat, gaze distant like he’s searching for a signpost in a storm. “Yeah?”

“I really—I want to fuck you very badly right now. But I—” Keiji takes a steadying breath of his own, smirking over the way Kuroo moans and bucks into his fist. “But this isn’t—”

“Y-yeah,” Kuroo gasps. “But you can still—can you? I want—please, Keiji, just—”

Keiji hums agreeably and presses with purpose, one fingertip slipping inside. Kuroo sighs and it sounds like _relief_ , but his legs have started to twitch, his abs to tighten. “All right?” Keiji asks quietly.

Kuroo’s thrown his head back, started breathing hard through his nose and rolling his hips insistently against Keiji’s hand. “ _Nn_... don’t be... _tease_ ,” he manages through clenched teeth.

“I’d love to make you regret that, but we’re a little short on time.”

Keiji nips at Kuroo’s thigh where the skin is scattered with the faint half-moons left by his earlier clawing. It’s just a mild distraction before he pushes his finger further inside, swift and deep enough to make Kuroo choke out a loud, broken moan.

“Ahhh, fuck, _fuck_. You—k-keep— _yeah_.”

“I’ve got you,” Keiji murmurs. He mouths at Kuroo’s twitching cock, catching a thick, rolling drop of precome on his tongue and spreading it.

By the time Keiji has a second spit-slicked finger crooked inside Kuroo, those gorgeous thighs are damp with sweat and other things, and shaking like crazy. He’s barely even got a loose grip on Kuroo’s cock anymore, instead focusing his attention on the cadence of Kuroo’s moans and how his abs flex and what angle of pressure makes Kuroo grind down on Keiji’s hand with the most apparent desperation.

“Hey,” Keiji says, trying to catch Kuroo’s eye. He slows his tiring wrist to a near stop, presses a light kiss to Kuroo’s skin. “Is this good shaking or bad?”

“Good, no, good, it’s _good_ , don’t stop, don’t, I need—”

The particular whine in his voice draws an unbidden growl to the back of Keiji’s throat and he presses his fingers in _hard_ , right against Kuroo’s prostate where until this moment he’d mostly been just petting and teasing and keeping him just on the edge with that look in his golden eyes like he’s gazing up at a field of stars instead of the roof of a dusty old van in a city park.

Kuroo _yowls_ , his body jerking so hard that his cock bounces against his belly and spills more glistening beads that Keiji sweeps up with the pads of his unoccupied fingers.

“ _God_ , fucking—ahh, you’re so—”

“You know,” Keiji interrupts, his voice calm for how rough the words feel in his throat, “I think you could come like this.”

“No _shit_ , just—”

“No, not—just like _this_.” He punctuates his theory by squeezing Kuroo’s hip with one hand, and curling his long fingers deeper inside Kuroo with the other.

Kuroo moans in understanding, near breathless and as dark-eyed as Keiji’s ever seen. He’s looking down at Keiji like he’s a little scared of him. Maybe he is. He probably should be, sometimes. The thought makes Keiji smile strangely and he hides it against Kuroo’s thigh.

“Do we, uh... have time for..?”

Keiji’s wrist kind of aches and he has practice tomorrow and their time is indeed probably running out, but he doesn’t think there’s much short of _actual_ demons suddenly swarming this little park and igniting the van with hellfire that could get him to abandon his current task without seeing it through.

Things aren’t wet enough anymore, if they ever were, for Keiji to thrust and tease the way he’d really like, but he can manage. Kuroo’s body is tight and burning hot around his fingers and Keiji’s thoughts are suddenly overwhelmed with images of slicking himself up, driving into that heat and spreading him wider, fucking Kuroo senseless, making him break with a midnight howl.

As if reading his thoughts—or more likely, correctly interpreting the way Keiji is staring at him again—Kuroo’s mindless encouragement takes a sharp turn. “Ah, _ahh_ , shit, I’m gonna ride you... _so_ hard later, you’re gonna _cry_ —”

Keiji’s face burns. It’s one of those rare times he doesn’t know what to think, let alone say, he just _wants_ , helplessly, depthlessly, feels it under his skin and in his chest and calling his blood like a tide—but Kuroo’s back to making these little gasping sobs, and Keiji knows he’s getting close, that Kuroo gets loudest just before he goes very quiet, when he’s almost reached his limit.

A key flaw in Keiji’s plan occurs to him almost too late—doing this is already risky, and Kuroo’s likely to make quite a mess, very soon, which normally Keiji might enjoy watching but would probably cause undue trouble for others today. Not to mention requiring explanations he’s sure neither of them want to deal with giving just yet.

He releases Kuroo’s hip to wrap a hand around his cock again; suckling at the head draws Kuroo back from the stratosphere.

“Hey, no, Keiji, don’t—”

“Have to,” he says, letting Kuroo’s cock slip from his tongue again only briefly. “You’ll make a mess of yourself.”

Kuroo thrusts up into Keiji’s tightened fist with a whimper, reaching out weakly to half tug, half pet Keiji’s sweat-dampened hair. “Won’t, I won’t, I swear—” His eyes are closed tight and he’s hiding a drunken-looking smirk behind his other hand as if it will help his argument.

“Make a mess of me instead,” Keiji says, just before swallowing Kuroo deep again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Kuroo nearly shouts. “Fuck, fuckfuck _fuck_ —”

 

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Keiji says, finally, still wiping at his mouth with the back of one hand. Yes, he’d said _Make a mess_ , but he hadn’t meant it quite so literally.

“That... was...”

“...a lot.”

“ _Hah_. Sorry.”

Kuroo at least has the decency to look sheepish, his face blotched with pink and lips sucked red. His hair is beyond hopeless, and even the devilish makeup that Yachi had expertly applied earlier that day has migrated to the corners of his eyes. It still looks amazing on him, though, _somehow_.

“What?” asks Kuroo, wriggling his pants back up over his hips. “Hey, come here.”

Keiji flinches. “Wait, no, I’m—”

Kuroo’s actually pouting and Keiji grabs his hand with the one of his own that he’d just finished licking clean-ish. He runs his thumb over Kuroo’s callused knuckles and has to look away from his face a moment later—the way he’s biting his lip and looking all heart-eyed at Keiji through his melted makeup and drooping hair is just too much.

“I need to—wash,” Keiji says, looking around for a roll of paper towels or a rag or something. “Yacchan is already going to have to deal with your face—what?”

“ _Yacchan_?”

Keiji smirks. “Are you _jealous_ , Kuroo-san?”

“No, it’s—” He hesitates long enough that Keiji worries he misspoke, but then Kuroo leers when he concludes: “— _cute_.”

“Keep calling me that and I’m not going to fuck you. Fix your horns.”

“Empty threats,” Kuroo says, adjusting himself—but not his horns—with a pointedly toothy smile.

Keiji’s face burns anew and he backs away from Kuroo before he can be harassed further, but—speaking of threats. “What was that you said about later?”

“What?”

“When you were—about the... riding. You said _later_.”

“Oh! Ah... Dad’s in Osaka for the weekend, so I was thinking, I mean, if you wanted to come over. You know. _Stay_ over. Or whatever.”

Kuroo’s gone redder than his wizard robe, but it makes it that much easier for Keiji to tug him closer and assent with a kiss.

“Hey, Keiji-kun,” Kuroo rumbles as they catch their breath. “You should say _fuck_ more often. It’s hot as hell.”

Keiji smirks. “ _Later_.”

**Author's Note:**

> At first I struggled with the travel logic of Sendai and Tokyo teams getting together to shoot student films, but then I realized Furudate didn't worry about that, so I don't have to, either. [The outfits](https://helwolves.tumblr.com/private/182408966187/tumblr_pm4950RCZk1rwbitf), if you're unfamiliar.
> 
> [Find me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/helwolves/) ★


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